


Hold On

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-28
Updated: 2010-07-28
Packaged: 2019-01-19 06:24:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12404829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: ...their kisses are oxygen and they cling to each other like the other is the only thing keeping them alive -And they are, they are, they are, and they will hold on.





	Hold On

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

Harry shuffles down the corridor, ignoring the Fat Lady’s squawks of protest (“You need more bed rest!”) as best as he can manage in the silence and with nothing to distract him – from her, from the day’s horror, from the wreckage. His home has been blasted apart, blood stains the floors and walls, the ghosts of all who have died will forever haunt the castle, even if they have passed on. It’s destroyed, it’s rubble, it’s gone, gone, gone and there’s nothing he can do to bring it all back. 

“Gone,” he mumbles to himself, “they’re all gone.” Remus and Tonks and Fred and Colin are staring back at him, their faces white, their gazes blank, lifeless. Out of the corners of his eyes, he can see them, just on the edge of his vision – on the edge of a cliff, ready to jump and fall, fall away from him, fall away from the world forever. 

The hall stretched out in front of him seems endless; his sight is going blurry and he wonders why the walls are spinning like the Department of Mysteries – and there’s Sirius, dangling by his chained wrists in one of the portraits, in his robes from Azkaban – and his parents are there, too, James’ face mirroring the same determination he had while facing Voldemort, Lily’s terror for her life and her son’s – and they’re spinning, spinning, spinning, with all the dead from the Great Hall, rows upon rows of bodies and it’s over, over, over. 

Harry’s legs nearly collapse under him as he turns a corner at precisely the same time someone else does so as well at the other end of the corridor. His response is instantaneous: He wipes furiously at his eyes, berating himself for letting any tears slip out; straightens his back; tries to force his strides to be purposeful. No one will want to see their hero showing weakness. 

But then there’s a mane of red hair and he immediately relaxes, because he knows he doesn’t have to be strong for her; knows she won’t fall for it. And although those brown eyes are narrowed and scrutinizing, he’s never been happier to have her glare at him in his entire life. 

They both freeze, just long enough for her glower to disappear and for his facial features to straighten themselves into something akin to disbelief – then it’s long strides and nothing standing between them and holding on to each other for dear life as they meet with great gasps of breath, and Ginny starts to cry when Harry takes her into his arms, her entire body wracking with sobs. He can feel her tears soaking through his shirt and he can feel her gripping it in her fists – but he can feel her, she’s absolutely and irrevocably here, and his shoulders start to shake a little bit, too, but Ginny takes no note of this. She only clutches her tighter to him, and he can hear her whisper, “You’re here, you’re here,” as though she’s stealing his thoughts and putting them out for the world to hear – but their world is just the two of them, and she can steal anything of his after she’s stolen his heart. 

“I’m here, I’m here,” he murmurs into the top of her head, hardly able to fathom it himself, “I’m here.” 

Harry tumbles to his knees and Ginny tumbles down with him, pressing her face still deeper into his chest; he strokes her hair, matted with dirt and blood, even as a stray sob or two escapes from him, until he’s crying, too – he’s crying, crying, crying as he’s never cried before, crying for all he’s lost, all that’s happened to him, everyone who died fighting for him, tears streaking through the thin layer of grime still left on his face and leaving long lines down his cheeks. It all pours out, thousands of words unspoken, good-bye and thank you and I’m sorry to all of the fighters, wishing he had the chance to actually tell them. 

They’re still weeping even as Ginny threads her slender fingers into Harry’s gnarled, knotted mop; he buries his face in the crook of her neck and holds her as tightly to him as he can, his fingers digging into her back. 

“They fell,” he rasps. “They jumped.” 

Ginny nods as though she knows exactly what he’s talking about, the sobs becoming less but the tears still flowing freely. It seems like years before they stop altogether, Harry’s along with hers, and they sink to the floor and rest against part of the wall that isn’t in pieces. 

“They fell,” he repeats in a rough whisper. A plethora of emotions dance in his eyes: grief, shame, anger, horror, slight fear, something that could best be described as missing. 

In the time Ginny takes to formulate a response, his hair is combed through and nearly back to normal messiness. Finally, she murmurs, “Even the best fall down sometimes, Harry.” She lifts his chin with two fingers, making him look right into her eyes. Immediately, the lost look becomes less pronounced. “But when you fall,” she says softly, “you have to get back up.” 

Harry stares at her face for the longest moment, and Ginny stares right back – an unspoken understanding passes between them, and they rise, hand in hand, until they’re standing again, supporting each other. He looks down at her, she looks up at him, their gazes still locked. 

And then it’s another gasp and crushing her to his body and he’s kissing her and she’s kissing back and although their eyes are closed they can see their future stretched out for years in front of them, the road paved with scars ahead and behind – Ginny whispers, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” into Harry’s chest and his lips come crashing back down onto hers, saying _I love you, I love you, I love you_ , but he knows she needs to hear the words: When they pull away for air, he holds her, iron strong, and into her hair he says, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” and their kisses are oxygen now and they cling to each other like the other is the only thing keeping them alive – 

And they are, they are, they are, and they _will_ hold on.

* * *

 

A/N: Thoughts?

 


End file.
